


Yowie

by dashery



Category: Homestuck
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:53:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dashery/pseuds/dashery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mostly jokes about privates but also some fluffy porn I guess. Who am I, I don't even go here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yowie

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://glampersand.tumblr.com/post/66647680771/i-wanna-read-a-smutty-fanfic-where-theyre-like).
> 
> I wanted to be drunk when I wrote this but, sadly, I was not.

Dirk and Jake had both decided that if they were going to go steady, then by gum, they were gonna go the distance, go hard, go for the gold, go where the going gets tough, one two three four five GO TITANS--(What? Oh nothing old chum carry on!)--go home, go for broke, go tell it on the mountain.

The mountain was Jake's dick.

Well, not exactly.

"Oh, really now, Strider, I know it's not the most impressive rod to ever whack a tally but I'm quite comfortable with it! You don't have to cement your peepers quite so tightly to it to make me feel better."

"Really. Is that why it's hiding."

Dirk leaned back from his extended sneak peak down Jake's Lucky Charms boxers (which he hadn't put on because he thought he needed any luck on this particular endeavor!). With Dirk's shaded peepers fixed on his boyfriend's face, he let his hand wander beneath the waistband and didn't even blink when Jake jumped.

"Jesus jiminy crickets, can you warn a man before there's foreign digits all about his intimates?"

"I guess," said Dirk, withdrawing those tentative fingers from Jake's dick but not from his underoos. "Did you know you get at least five times cornier the more nervous you are?"

Jake lifted his chest. He was propped against the pillows at the head of his bed, shirt off, shorts gone, only his socks and underwear between Dirk and his most ticklish places. He tried to keep his toes from curling. "I hardily resent that. I'm not nervous."

"It's a direct correlation, bro, I'm just saying." Dirk sat back on his heels between Jake's legs and braced one elbow on Jake's knee, taking him in with the same face he wore to examine a malfunctioning robot or a complicated bit of machinery. That is, with the same face as usual, as far as Jake could tell at a glance, but still--there was something intent about those utterly impenetrable panes of UV-protective glass. Dirk scooted in again, letting his arm fall only to daintily grip the elastic of Jake's boxers between the thumbs and first two fingers of his hands. "All right. Nervous or not, let's get Jake Junior some air."

"I. I, er." Jake could only watch as Dirk peeled away his cover. He felt like Christmas Day, and Dirk was taking care not to tear his gift wrapping. Halfway exposed, he nudged Dirk in the side with his knee. "Slow down there, intrepid hero, who ever said my meat petard's moniker was Junior?"

Dirk stopped obediently and flicked his attention back up to Jake's general eye contact zone, though he didn't remove his hands. "Yeah? Well, color me corrected. What did you name ye olde English?"

"Hm, well, you see." Jake shifted down against the pillows to get more comfortable. His underwear rode up, but Dirk nudged it back down another centimeter to make up the lost ground. Jake bit his lip, looking down. "If you really must horn in on the sacred closeness between a chap and his tiddlywink, I'll have you know I call him The Spirit of Adventure."

Dirk stared at him wordlessly for a full seventeen seconds. Jake hunched into his shoulders, then pushed himself up a little to flick at his nose. Dirk moved his head back in time, of course.

"You're serious."

"As a case of dysentery on the Yukon Trail."

"Well." And then Dirk glanced down and the shorts were off, tossed to the far side of the room like they'd been teleported even if Jake knew Dirk had had to flash awkwardly out of the way to slip them down his leg. Jake's tallywhacking-meat-petard-tiddlywink was now exposed to the elements and to Dirk's inscrutable attention. He resettled himself on his stomach between Jake's legs and put his chin in his hand, looking pointedly at Jake's naked crotch. "Adventure is out there."

Jake made a sound like _pfftphhth_.

"What can I do to raise your spirits," Dirk continued in the same casual drawl, reaching up to run his fingers along the underside of Jake's penis, brush his thumb over the top. This time the sound Jake made went more like _nnhuh_ , a quiet breath of a noise that was as much a ghost as Dirk's hand on his dick.

"That there--that's a start, I suppose," Jake said. He remembered to uncurl his toes, still safely, perversely hidden in his socks. Dirk kept at his work, light and without pressure, like he was trying to coax an animal into the open. Jake pushed his legs down to either side of Dirk and sunk deeper into his pillows. "Do you think you could--just a little--a little more, don't you think?"

"A little more what."

Jake lifted his head, but as much as Dirk was still presenting nonchalance, his head in his hand as he watched his fingers move over and around Jake, Jake was sure, somehow--the way his face was glued to what he was doing, some imagined tension between his brows--that Dirk didn't mean to tease. Or at least, he wouldn't mean to if he had some other option.

"A little more--good diddly gosh, Dirk, you don't do this sort of thing with yourself? You know." Jake waved his hand up and down at the room in a gesture that didn't actually mean anything at all. "When you're alone."

Dirk hummed noncommittally and at least wrapped his hand properly around Jake's shaft, enough to make him sigh a little. "Not much, I guess."

Now it was Jake's turn to stare. "Really?"

Dirk shrugged. "I don't know. It just didn't do much for me. I always lost interest after a while." He inched forward a little, that laser focus still trained in front of him like he wasn't a boy or even Jake's boypal friend-smoocher, but a guided missile. A missile guided to dong. Or maybe, and this was the first time the thought had occurred to him, guided to Jake himself. The thought fluttered against the walls of his stomach like a startled fairy bull, and then Dirk pulled long and slow and gentle down his length and yes, that was good, just like that, Dirk, keep going.

Dirk shifted closer again after a minute and rested his head on Jake's thigh, angling his head so he could still see everything from Jake's gradually hardening erection to his flushed chest, to the expression on his face, if Dirk looked up. Jake was chewing on his lip, not particularly close to anything earthshaking on the downstairs end of things. But still, having someone else touch him, having Dirk Strider, his best buddy in the world and this amazing frigging genius from the future with robots and rebel plots and unchecked tyranny just begging for justice, having that Dirk between his legs with his dick in his hand like it fascinated him, like what he was doing to Jake was more amazing than all that--

That feeling was rather nothing short of fucking incredible. Even if the sight still made his insides flip giddily. He wanted to laugh and he wasn't sure why.

"Jake," Dirk said suddenly, stopping with the Spirit's head wrapped in his palm. "Jake, maybe not today, but. Next time, I'd like to try, maybe, putting your cock in my--"

"PFFHAH."

Jake had time to cover his mouth with his fist before Dirk looked up, but his cheeks were still taut and red with the laughter that had suddenly split his face. Dirk considered this for a moment. "So. No?"

"No, no, I mean, no I mean yes! I just meant, when I said no, that I wasn't--you--hahahahaha." Jake pushed both hands against his cheeks to try to, he didn't know, physically subdue their unabashed grinning. "God, Dirk, I'm so sorry, it's not you! I mean, it is you, but not--oh, flipping Christ on a canteen cover. It's just." He breathed, then tented his hands over his nose and mouth, still feeling his eyes crinkle mirthfully. "You said cock."

The moment stretched. "Yeah, I did," Dirk said, and Jake could only crack up more at his deadpan bafflement.

"It's just. I'm sorry, bro, but it's a funny word. _Cock_."

Experimentally, Dirk rubbed his thumb over the tip of Jake's cock, and when that choked his chuckle halfway into a whine for a moment, appeared satisfied with the results. "Jake, you called it a meat petard. A meat petard named 'The Spirit of Adventure.'"

It was too much, and Jake just laughed into his hands while Dirk continued to absently fondle his half-cocked cock. "Well--well, hahaa, what do you call yours, then, dickstrudel?"

Dirk laughed through his nose, and the air tickled Jake's bare skin. "I can't top The Spirit of Adventure for classics."

"Oh don't be a stick in the--haha, a _dick_ in the mud, Strider." Jake lowered his arms to push himself half-sitting again. "You wouldn't have asked if you didn't call it something."

"Point, probably." Dirk trailed the fingers of his unoccupied hand up Jake's stomach. It tickled, and he picked his hands up to protect himself and fell back again. "All right. I call it," he looked up, very seriously, "the D."

"--psssnfffhahahAHAHAHAHA. AHAHA!" Jake wanted to roll up onto his side, but Dirk was in the way. He hooked his leg around Dirk's back instead to hold him there, like he thought Dirk might disappear because Jake was laughing at him when the wonder of this boy was what made Jake laugh. "Dirk, that is abso-goshdarn-lutely the worst name for a man's flag of honor I have ever heard."

"Again. You just called it a 'flag of honor.' What does that even mean?" But he'd gotten Dirk to crack a smile, and that meant more than all the shitty first-time hand-jobs in the postapocalyptic universe.

When they finally stopped dicking around and smacking at each other's arms, Jake put his hand over Dirk's and showed him the way he liked it, a little more pressure there, your other fingers here, yeah that's right, you've got it. And even after Dirk had it, he kept his hand over his, palm over the bones in the back of his hand as Dirk brought him over the edge. He kept it there afterwards, when all he had to say was, "Holy hootenanny. Yowie."

Jake didn't understand why that of all things was what reduced Dirk to a helpless fit of laughter, but if this was what it was going to be like--feeling sweaty and a little sticky but pleasantly worn, with Dirk laughing quietly against him and his hand in Jake's--he could go, he decided, for the long haul.


End file.
